Clothed conversations co-existed with carnal collisions.
It was all that I’ve ever dreamed. A clash of my most curious theories ignited my Saturday night. Sharing a couch: his naked thighs, punctuated by my head in between, rubbed against neighborly knees, dressed in denim. His moans mingled well with their heated political debate. My committed bobbing contrasted with their heads shaking sideways, “No, Obama’s second term is not guaranteed!”
As he pours himself a second helping of tea
I poured a second coat of saliva over my pumping fist
Synchronicity at it’s most fascinating
“He has a cute, little ass,” one voice says.
“I know. You call Ryan yet? What’s his ETA?” References to my naked body, however brief, excited me. I felt like an exhibitionist, rocking my hips to the rhythm of the Indian electronica. Voyeuristically, I looked over to another couple following our lead; the contours of his muscular back transfixed me. Watching him thrust deeply into his partner, I could see his muscles firing off: a beautiful anatomy lesson.
The dance floor was packed
The coffee tables was full of conversation and laughter
We climbed the walls to reach the highest heights of ecstasy
Being a part of this social nexus stimulated me to no end.
A harmony I have yearned to hear for so long.
Occasionally, someone had to do walk around us to get through the crowded room. Their touch across my naked backside was refreshing and reaffirming. Their foreign fingertips would trace the lines of my tattoo in acknowledgement. The brave explored my body a bit further. In a strange way, I felt edified.
The unity I felt was sublime.
Looking over the sea of flesh radiating and writhing, I reclaimed my love for humanity. In this universal exposure, our individual flaws faded away as we took on a collective beauty. It was a feast for the eyes seeing the different combinations and arrangements love, lust and life can take.
All the different shapes and speeds
The myriad of shades and styles
Melded into one.